Author: yaddayaddayana

“The value of a watch is not in being able to tell how much time has passed, but in being aware of the need to make that time count. Moments are bigger than minutes and your watch should tell more than time.”

JORD, a company that creates beautiful modern wooden timepieces, has this quote on their site. A few weeks ago they reached out to me for a collaboration. They generously sent two his-and-her wooden watches for my boyfriend and me, and I was ecstatic to receive them. This company excites me as I see their passion. Their love for what they do and what they create is so apparent, and I really believe they want to create special, meaningful products for their customers. This quote, I think, is captured beautifully in each of their pieces, and I truly understand what they mean by moments being larger than minutes and the importance of not just counting time but making time count.

I’ve been dating the same guy for about a year and a half now, though I prefer to not to think about how much time we’ve been together and instead how much we’ve grown together. Though a year and a half may not seem that long, I feel like we’ve been through a lot. Not every moment being absolutely fantastic, of course. I would be lying if I said that every second was perfect, because let’s face it: relationships are hard. Even the best ones are. And up until recently I don’t think I completely understood that.

I hope this does not offend, but I will admit that I did not see modeling as much of an art. Photography is an art. Painting is an art. Dancing is an art. But modeling? For some reason, it was never the first to cross my mind. However, over the last couple of months, I had the opportunity to work with several wonderful photographers, and it was this that experience changed my perspective. Opened me up to a whole new world. A whole new skill. A whole new passion.

I’m constantly bewildered by fashion bloggers’ ability to constantly post new content. Of course “pic creds” always seem to go to boyfriends, best friends, siblings, moms. But I’m not gonna lie: the people in my life have a lot more to concern themselves with than my personal blog, and I prefer not distracting them from their daily tasks with my constant need to take pictures.

As a fashion blogger who’s just beginning to start and grow, I understand the importance of releasing a consistent stream of new content to Instagram. By releasing more content, you set yourself up with more opportunities for other users to find your account. However, not having people to take your pictures (or not wanting to ask people to take your pictures) can really slow down this release of new content, especially as a fashion blogger whose main content comes from outfit-of-the-days and other outfit pictures. One of the main reasons I put off starting a blog for so long was my fear that I would not be able to produce enough content.

However, I put on my big girl pants and told myself, “You are a strong independent woman and you don’t need NO ONE to take pictures for you!” And so I did it. Pretty successfully, if I say so myself. Though if you have any doubt on my level of success, below are some examples I took by myself. Judge as you please.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

So, yeah. Here I am now. Using the hour breaks between classes to scream “Cheese!” at my phone sitting five feet away in the middle of campus surrounded by classmates and bikers and professors getting mildly annoyed with me. And if that sounds at all appealing to you, you should keep reading.

Like the creepy dudes that DM you on Twitter, I appreciate nudes. Yep, I admit it. I’m that guy who slipped into your DMs last week. Feels good to admit.

But in all seriousness, I love the color nude. And by that, I mean every shade of nude. Because in this increasingly diverse world, the color nude is becoming less and less localized. It’s no longer the same “light beige”. It’s not one shade. And it seems that more companies are starting to get this.

Last year, Christian Louboutin expanded his shoe range, creating a line of heels that came in multiple shades of nude. This fall, Aerie release a nude line of lingerie that has five different skintone shades. Target created an expanded collection of nude lingerie and hosiery. Dancers have access to nude pointe shoes and leotards that have been diversified by Gaynor Minden and Mahogany Blues Dance apparel, respectively. Even bandages are being released in different shades of nudes.

This change was much needed and so appreciated by the world. It’s seemingly miniscule advances like these that I think can lead to real change on how we, as a nation, percieve and treat people of color, and I strongly believe that these changes can lead to more awareness, more acceptance, more respect, more love, and, ultimately, real equality. I’m honestly so excited to see more and more companies diversify their collections because fashion should never deny anyone. It should never restrict. Never exclude.

But one of my favorite things about nudes is that they look beautiful together. And by that, I mean every shade of nude. While I could have chosen to style this outfit limited by one color, one tone, and one shade, it’s much more beautiful to use varying shades and tones. And I think that says something about the world we should strive to live in.

Just a collection of poetry I’ve written from years back that I’m now curating together. This collection is specifically related to heartbreak and romance and will slowly develop. I’ll be adding a new poem to the top of this post every so often so continue to check in.

Sleep

Of every seven nights, I refuse to sleep for three
Because I would rather think in the dark than lose it to dreams
I would rather use my nights for cognizance than reverie
So for three nights I keep myself awake
Because the cool and the dark and the quiet is the only state I can think
Mondays and Wednesdays
And another for thinking of you

a.t.

Stuck

I’ve been stuck
Rendered motionless between desire and fear
Too scared to make a move
But too passionate to not

There are three things I realized from wearing a dress that was too short. One. I should really learn how to do laundry properly. Two. The majority of people are too embarrassed about seeing your underwear that they probably won’t tell you that they can see your underwear– an interesting, yet easily observable self-hindering phenomenon deserving of more investigation. And three. Even worse than victim-blaming is the unfortunate tendency reinforced by decades of societal conditioning for victims to feel the need to blame themselves. But let me explain.

Everyone has a type, right? That specific kind of person that they constantly date over and over again? My roommate had dated three different guys, all of whom were reserved and quiet and wore glasses. My friend seemed to only be interested in blondes. And my cousin had a weird fixation on dentists. And me? I always found myself being drawn to loud, obnoxious chatty types.

Now I’m all for self-awareness. I think there is a lot of importance in understanding yourself and understanding what you want. It gives you direction, drive, and ambition. But let’s be real here: I didn’t really know what I want. As a person who had never been in a relationship, I really shouldn’t have restricted myself to a specific genre of people. And yet, that’s what I did.

When I met him, I couldn’t help but be attracted. We were introduced by some mutual friends, and my initial impression was one of hope. He was sweet, silly, and very attractive. But he was reserved. Quiet and conservative. He wasn’t nearly as upfront as the other guys I’ve been interested in. Didn’t have the same swag or demeanor. Didn’t share that obnoxious level of confidence. He just wasn’t my “type”. Nope. Not at all. And yet, I found myself wanting to see him more, happy in his presence.

This happiness, however, just didn’t seem justifiable to me. How could I be happy with this guy who was so different from what I was used to? I admittedly spent way too much time thinking about our relationship. I compared him to other guys and obsessed over our “lack of compatibility”. He was way too quiet. He wasn’t flirty enough. His sense of humor just wasn’t right. It came to the point where I harassed my friends for advice that I never took anyway, where I demanded reassurance from them before every date, where I would second guess the legitimacy of my own happiness, where I was contemplating breaking things off with a guy who made me happy. All because he wasn’t my “type”.